dying stars
by closingdoors
Summary: One of many ideas about a potential season 6. "Never once does he wake. She doesn't know what that says about them. She's not sure if she wants to know." Two-shot. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**dying stars**

* * *

A series of events inspired by several six-word stories by writingsforwinter. Potential season 6 spoilers, but I'm completely spoiler free, so maybe not. Please don't leave any spoilers in reviews. I'm spoiler-free.

**Disclaimer: **Is Andrew Marlowe currently on the verge of tears because he gets his AS-Level results tomorrow? No? Then I'm not him.

* * *

_Our mouths met like dying stars._

* * *

From the roof of his building, there's a beautiful view of the sky.

Sometimes when he's sleeping and her mind is racing she'll slip from the sheets and climb up the stairs and she holds her breath and her heart thumps harder in her chest until finally there it is and the view is astounding and amazing and she can. Breathe. Remember that even if water is beautiful and it flows, sometimes she needs a break. She is only human. Nobody expects her to be anything more than that. Only herself.

He never notices. When she's sifting through his closet for her ballet flats, his nose will scrunch, his palm reaching out. But never once does he wake. She doesn't know what that says about them. She's not sure if she wants to know.

Kate breathes out, slowly, quietly. Places her face in her hands and just. Exists.

"Hey."

She startles, turning to find him standing in the doorway to the rooftop. Hair still mussed from sleep and her hands and his eyes a little sharper than they ought to be.

"Hey. What're you doing up?"

"Shouldn't that be my line?" He counters, not making an attempt to move closer.

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, nerves fraying slightly. How can she possibly explain to him that her mind is racing and it's all his fault? How can she possibly explain to him that sometimes she can't sleep at night because she's terrified of the day she doesn't come home to him and breaks him until he'll never be whole again?

"Hey. You wanna talk?"

Kate opens her eyes without having realised that she'd ever closed them. He's closer now, almost close enough to touch, and oh, how she aches for that. Skin on skin. To make her forget. To make things slow down. To place a blissful void between the things that hurt her and him.

"It's 3am, Kate."

Her eyes flick back to the stars. Dull. Her place of solitude, of simply existing, of space. Gone now.

He's everywhere. All at once. In her home and her heart and now even in her stars.

Sometimes she resents him for it and sometimes she hates herself for resenting him for it.

"C'mere, Castle." She speaks softly, and he moves forwards without question.

Her arms are around his neck in an instant, lifting on her toes eagerly as her mouth meets his in a tangled oxymoron. Soft and tender but bubbling with heat and rage. His hands settle on her hips even as she feels his hands tremble, his anger at her solitude strengthening. Why does he have to be a part of everything? He already has her, is that not enough? Has she ever been enough? How much can he possibly want? How much can she possible give?

"Hey." His hands are suddenly soft and gentle when they pull away, capturing the stars in her tears. "Talk to me. Kate. Please."

How can she possibly tell him how terrified she is of never being enough?

"Just. Hold me." She manages to get out, and he does.

The stars in the sky are dull as she looks up. And, what used to shine so bright to her on a silver wedding band, is just another chain.

She turns to him and kisses him once more as though she can possibly change a lifetime of habits simply by loving him.

* * *

_We were always alone, even together._

* * *

Kate's curled up on the sofa with a copy of the latest Patterson novel in her hands when he arrives home. Her mouth parted softly in sleep, the softest snore leaking out that she refuses to accept that she makes, her eyelashes chasing the shadows on her cheekbones.

He stands at the end of the couch for a moment, content to watch her, even with his suit jacket still draped over one arm and his tie only half-undone. She's beautiful. She's everything. She's enough. Even if she can't give everything, even if sometimes it feels like this whole relationship is one-sided, she's enough. She always has been.

He moves on into his loft, changing in their room before going back to her. Heart heavy when he notices that her favourite mug is in the wrong place, and that her toothbrush was left on the counter instead of placed in the holder with his, and that the latest edition of Nikki Heat is buried beneath all of her summer reading, even though she'd told him she couldn't get enough of it. Even though she'd told him she loved him more and more each day when she saw the dedication. Even though she'd laid in bed with him that night and they'd mapped out their future in whispers, pinpointing events like constellations they're both ready to dive into.

"Hey." He whispers softly, stroking her hair lightly as he crouches down to her level.

Her lashes flutter, one bleary eye peeking open to stare at him. "Castle. Hey. You're home." She says, voice hoarse. "I thought your flight wasn't 'till tomorrow."

"I grabbed an early flight. Thought I'd surprise you."

Kate's lips twitch. "Good to have you home, Castle." She says, even as she's leaning her head back down on the couch.

"Yeah." He murmurs, watching the way her features slacken as she falls asleep. "Yeah, good to be home."

She protests when he tries to carry her to their bed, and he tries not to think too much about the fact that their bed is unmade, as though it hadn't been touched since he'd left.

It's not the first night he's slept alone under the same roof as her.

* * *

_The saddest word in English: Stay._

* * *

"I love you."

They're standing in her apartment, amongst the overstuffed cardboard boxes that all of her things had been stuffed into. Her hair is pulled back into a scruffy bun, one stray strand clinging to her skin, her cheeks flushed from exertion. There's a van waiting outside to be filled with all of these boxes, all of her things, her trinkets, her furniture, all the parts of her he'd come to know. And there's a plane ticket in her pocket to Washington DC for a future he's still not quite sure includes him.

She stares at him, so he says it again, in the middle of her apartment like it always is.

"I love you."

She smiles, a slow and unsteady thing that threatens to make her eyes give away what she's really feeling. Then she picks up one of the boxes and heads towards the door, kissing him fleetingly as she passes. Already gone.

* * *

He holds her hand all the way to the airport as her Dad drives them. He studies how her hair falls over her shoulders, tumbles in curls and captures the light he's not sure they have anymore. And how her hazel eyes absorb the landscapes they pass, the people, eager to learn more, excited for this new job. And he is excited for her. And he is proud of her. He is. This is the kind of work she was made for, this is who she is and he loves her no matter the choice she makes, no matter if that choice leaves them miles apart with nothing but the memories to keep their hearts alive.

He just knows that's he's going to miss her a Hell of a lot more than he's letting on. He's going to miss bringing her coffee at work and flirting over a dead body with her and watching her joke with the boys. He's going to miss the way they finish each other's sentences like some kind of lovesick teenagers and the sparkle she gets in her eyes when she has a new idea and the way she breaks apart their suspect to confession. He's going to miss the way she laughs and the way she sounds when she whispers his name when his tongue roams her skin and he's going to miss the way that she loves him, the way that she shows it every day, the way he won't see anymore.

He's going to miss seeing that ring on her hand and knowing he put that there. That she wants them as much as he does.

Once her luggage is sorted out and she has a boarding pass in her hands, she turns to her Dad and gives him a huge hug. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too, Katie." He hears the pride in Jim's voice as he lets his daughter go. "Call me as soon as you're all sorted out."

"I will." She says, and then she turns to Castle.

He stands, uselessly, for a moment, before she's stepping closer and she's around him and everywhere all at once with her face buried in his neck and her body moulded into his. She is always. Everywhere.

"I love you." He breathes into her skin. Maybe if he says it enough she won't go.

"I love you too, Castle." She whispers quietly, pulling away to stand in the circle of his arms and stare up at his face. Remembering everything about this moment.

"I'm gonna miss you, Kate." He barely says the words, his throat suddenly tight.

Her own bobs, her eyes suddenly a lot more tearful than he'd expected them to be. "Yeah." She says, voice husky. "I'm gonna miss you too."

She meets him halfway in their kiss, gentle and undeserving of everything they should be. His heart clatters against his ribs. It can't break free.

"I'll call you." She whispers against his lips, looking up at him. "Okay?"

He nods, but he doesn't feel it. It feels like someone's turned down the sound as her lips move, as crowds bustle about them, as her Dad warns her she's pushed for time. Her hands move to cup his cheeks, her eyes watering, before she presses a lingering kiss against his lips one last time.

"I love you." He chokes out as she pulls away, not the words he really wants to say, watching as she tries to smile at him reassuringly but it falls flat.

He watches as she falls into the crowd, the extraordinary Kate Beckett, until he can't see her anymore.

* * *

_She exhaled her darkness like constellations._

* * *

Every inch of Washington is pressed suits and straight faces. And she's been here for all of four hours.

She crashes on the couch, feet laid out in front of her, sighing softly. Her new apartment is a mess. A beautiful, promising mess of cardboard boxes and new memories. Her old apartment was warm. Open. She can picture something more here. Something better.

From her position on the couch she can stare out of the window on the opposite wall, she can see the stars, only slightly. They peek around the corner of an office building, trying to find their way back to her.

She pads over to the window, opening it slightly and smiling at the feel of the city air rolling over her. Breathe.

Her phone is heavy in her hands, and she stares at it for a moment before slipping it back into her pocket. She had called her Dad during the cab ride to her apartment. She had text Lanie on her way up the stairs. Castle was the only one left. But the trouble was, she didn't know what to say. 'I'm sorry'? No. Because she's not. This is her job, her career, and she loves it. She'll never apologise for doing her job. 'I miss you already'? No. Far too generic. She wants her own words for him. Not other people's lonely souls.

'I love you'?

She holds her left hand up against the night sky, squinting. An extra star joins the darkness.

Guilt seeps into her heart as quickly as it dissipates.

She'd never said that she would be good at this.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**Twitter:** _closingdoors  
**Tumblr:** instanakaticsboobs


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **If you're (not) Marlowe and you know it clap your hands. Clap clap.

PLEASE remember that reviews are not a place to leave your character bashing. Other than that, thank you all for your wonderful reviews on this little two-shot. I didn't expect it to gather much attention. I was anticipating it to gather dust instead.

* * *

_Disappointed to discover you were human._

* * *

Agent Beckett.

The words light something inside of her that had previously been dull.

She's doing things that she had never even realised were in her realm of capability. It feels like she can do anything. Solve anything. Help the world out. She's leaving her mark. No, this wasn't what she had imagined nor dreamed of when she was a child, watching her parents packing important files into their briefcases before heading out to court. But. Now. It's everything. She's finally leaving something that says: I was here. I was important. Somehow. Someway. Remember me.

She's only ever felt that one other time, with one other person.

Smiling at her partner as she heads out for the night, Beckett scoops her phone from her desk, surprised to find that there's no missed calls, no texts. She'd barely been by her cell all day; her team had caught a breakthrough in a particularly tough case and she'd spent most of the day working her ass off catching the guy. It was surprising that there was no missed calls, she'd cut her call with Castle short when she was on her lunch break, promising to text him later.

Once she's home and has briefly considered making herself dinner, she trudges into her kitchen, calling him on speakerphone.

He doesn't answer the first time, and she takes a break from searching her vaguely empty cupboards to call again. Her brain concocts several scenarios as she waits impatiently for him to pick up, all of which wind up with him being injured or in serious trouble, her heart flipping in her chest each time the dial tone sounds. Until, finally, his voice- small and defeated- leaks through the phone begrudgingly.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Castle." She sighs in relief. "Why didn't you pick up the first time? I got worried."

"I was busy. It's not like I'm not allowed to be busy, Beckett."

She pauses as her arm reaches up to grab pasta from the cupboard. This doesn't sound good.

"Is there a secret meaning to this that I'm supposed to catch onto, Castle?"

There's a long pause, and for a moment she thinks that he's hung up, but finds that's not true when she moves back over to where she'd left her phone on the counter and finds that the call is still connected. She tries again.

"Castle? Is there something you want to say?"

"Nothing." He says moodily. "It's nothing."

"The Hell it's nothing, Castle." She protests, feeling anger bubbling inside her. "You're being off with me. What did I do?"

"Oh, there's a Hell of a lot of things you've done, Beckett."

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Tries to breathe through the anger. If there's anything that she's learned during the four months she's been living out here, away from him, is that it requires a Hell of a lot more patience than before. She can't see his face, can't tell if his eyes are angry or if there's that little pucker of a frown between his eyebrows or if he's leaning to the left. She can't reach out and hold him and use intimacy to fight her battles, she can't press her face close to his and remind him that she loves him, because through the crackle of the speakerphone the words _I Love You_ don't sound like much. Like the empty promises of something that she'd given up on a long time ago.

And she's not given up. She's never giving up.

At her silence, he speaks again. "You didn't call me back."

"I've just called you back now, Castle. As soon as I could."

"It's nine now, Kate. You called me at eleven this morning. You said: I'm taking my lunch break early. And then you told me once again how wonderful your new team are, and that there was this coffee place just round the corner that was even better than back here, and then you told me you had to go and you'd call me back but it took you twelve hours, Kate."

"That's not my fault, Castle. The case-"

"How wonderful are your new team, Beckett? Are they better than me, Ryan and Esposito? Do you look back on our team and sneer at our petty theories? Our far more menial cases?"

"That's different, Castle. And you know it. I would _never _think of it that way."

"And how about your grande skim latte, two pumps sugar free vanilla? Oh no wait, it's one pump now isn't it? The vanilla there is _so sweet, Castle." _He sneers, imitating her.

She's furious beyond belief, hands gripping the counter for support. He's acting completely out of character, and completely ridiculous. He wants to pick a fight? Fine. He can pick a fight. She's not going to play the good guy and give in to all these insults. It's all totally uncalled for. She doesn't deserve this.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Castle. I thought you- I thought…" She closes her eyes, tries to think straight even though every one of his words feels like a knife through her gut. "I thought you wanted me to open up. Tell you things. I'm trying to include you, Castle."

"But you can't include me. And I bet you _love _that. I bet you have a good laugh with your new team, telling them all about my stupid theories, all the stupid things I've done while we worked together. Or have you even mentioned me at all?"

"Of _course _I've mentioned you, Castle-"

"But you're probably too busy working on yet another case that I can't help you with, that you can't tell me about, that you can't contact me for _twelve hours _for."

She grits her teeth and tries to calm the rage inside of her. Not the good guy. But not jeopardising this. Them. They've made it through worse.

They'll make it through this.

"You know I can't tell you about the cases, Castle. I want to. I want to hear your theories and I miss the way we worked together. I do. But there's a lot of legal issues, and I can't get around them. I'm sorry, but it's not my fault, okay? We don't need to fight."

Silence. All there is. Surrounding her. Through the speakerphone, through her mind, through her apartment. She doesn't know what to do, what else to say, briefly wondering when the next flight into New York is.

Kate rests her elbows against the counter. Stares at the phone, at the picture she has set for him. A picture of the two of them taken by Alexis, standing by the Christmas tree, heads pressed together. She wants to go back there. Not forever. She loves her job. But she just wants to be with him. Always.

She doesn't want to argue with him. She doesn't want to spend every night missing him, staring at his side of the bed, even if it's a bed he's never slept in. She doesn't want to keep wondering when he'll give up on her, decide she's not enough. Because she's not enough. She never has been. And she keeps waiting for it. The day he calls and says _I'm sorry, but this just isn't working._

"It is your fault."

His voice is so quiet, she barely hears it.

"Excuse me?"

"It is your fault. You accepted the job in the first place."

Her mouth falls open, tears pricking her eyes. Never in her life has she felt so betrayed.

"You said that you supported me taking the job, Castle. You said I deserve to do this."

"I- No- I hate what the job has done to you. To us. I… I hate your job."

Her anger boils over instantly, irrationally or not, as she growls: "You know, there's a lot of things about your job I hate, too."

"You- You what?"

"I hate your job, too. I hate seeing where you're taking Nikki and Rook and knowing you don't have the same hope for us. I hate that your book tour is going to take you away for two months and I'm barely going to be able to speak to you, when we hardly ever speak now. I hate seeing you take so many different women to these parties because I'm not there to go with you, and hearing about how much fun it was, how your _date_ was surprisingly intelligent, and I hate how all the gossip column has to say is that you've returned to your playboy ways, that I was just a fling, that we're over. I hate how members of my god damn team ask me if that's true, how others that work here gossip about it, trying to pity me- even when I'm wearing your damn ring. I _hate _it. I hate your job."

Her chest heaves after her outburst, lips parted as though what she was going to say next was just a forgotten echo. She can't believe half of the things she'd said. Things she hadn't even remembered feeling herself.

(But she does have a box of newspaper clippings, all featuring him and a blonde who is perhaps a little curvier than her, eyes a little bit brighter, smile not so false. The kind of woman he should be with. The kind that makes sense on paper.)

"You know I would never cheat on you, Kate." He assures her softly. "You know that. We've talked about this."

"I- I know that. I trust you. But that doesn't mean I can't hate it." She confesses quietly, wiping away the one tear that dares stray from her eyes.

After a moment of silence, where she can simply hear his breathing, like he's right there next to her, she whispers softly:

"Come here. After your book tour. I'll- I'll take some time off. Just… Stay here. With me. Please, Castle."

She's fractured sentences. Jumbled syllables. Broken vowel sounds.

"Okay." He agrees clearly. "Okay. I'll stay."

She almost says it: I love you.

She almost says it.

* * *

_Even broken vases are still beautiful._

* * *

She arrives to the airport an hour and a half before his flight is due to land, ready for their week together.

She paces along outside, drinks five cups of coffee, re- reads the first three chapters of _Frozen Heat _before she looks up and notices that his flight had landed two minutes ago. Stuffing the book in her bag as she jogs towards arrivals, she tries to think about all things that she's going to say, all the things she's going to do to make it right. She'll fix it. Them. She has to. She'd never said she'd be good at this, but she'd never said she'd be bad either. And she knows nothing else but a life with him.

And then finally, _finally, _he appears through the doors, pulling his suitcase with him. And everything that she's been feeling- the nerves, the anxiety, the hopelessness- bubbles over her and makes room for nothing but love.

Sure, he's changed. The bags beneath his eyes are slightly more prominent, and he's a little skinnier than she remembers, but he's still the Castle that she loves with all of her heart and more. So she's half-walking half-running towards him before she can think, only stopping a foot away from him when she notices the way he's slumping, how dull his eyes are when they set on her, how uninterested in the world around him he seems to be.

This definitely isn't how she remembers him.

So she stops and he stops and they both stare at each other for a long moment, adjusting to the differences, her heart soaring in her ribcage. Never once has the name of a set of bones been so apt in her entire life.

And then he's opening his mouth to speak to her face-to-face for the first time in six months and she's teetering forwards on her toes to hear it, to capture the sound, so it's just them. It's always just them.

"You cut your hair." He whispers, eyes glazed over.

His hands lift and her heart stops for a moment as his fingers brush the ends of her hair, where it sits on her shoulders. She'd forgotten to tell him about it. Hadn't thought it as a big deal. Only now, with her heart hammering in her chest, does she realise her mistake.

His eyes lift to hers. Something shifts.

"It looks nice." He says, withdrawing his hands.

"Yeah?"

He nods. Slowly. Acceptance. "Yeah. You- You're beautiful, Kate. So beautiful."

No more words left, she flings her arms around him without hesitation, drawing him close to her even as he steps closer to her willingly. She buries her face in his shoulder, mouth open against his shirt, stuck somewhere between laughing and crying. Because she's just missed him and lot and it's been six whole months without him and his crazy theories and the way he holds her and the way he loves her and she just loves him a lot and wishes they could stay. Here. Like this. Two lovers in the middle of an airport, unmoving while the world rushes around them.

He presses a kiss to her hair. "I love you." He tells her. And she hears the forgiveness in his tone.

She turns her head, lips brushing against his neck. "I love you more."

* * *

She doesn't get to show him around her apartment.

From the moment the door is closed behind them, he's on her, trapping her body between his own and the door and this is too much like their furious first night together and she doesn't _want _that, she doesn't want to act as though there's anything to be angry about, she doesn't want to act like they need to fix things anymore, she just wants things to be like they used to. Playful and tender and loving. Always loving.

By the time he's managed to lose half of his clothes, tore all of hers away, and is pressing her down into her bed, she's managed to slow their bruising kisses and angry nips to slow, barely-there kisses.

She opens her eyes to watch him looming over her, to see how the anger seeps from eyes and is replaced by what used to be.

Kate reaches up and touches his lips with the tips of her fingers. Gently. Like trying to coax the words from him she knows he's feeling.

"We have a lot to talk about." He says.

She nods, biting her lip. Silence.

Then: "I missed you, Castle. Every day."

He presses his forehead against hers. She darts her tongue out to feel the warmth of his breath tingle over her taste buds. Like she can't get enough of him.

"I missed you too, Kate." He murmurs softly. His whispers fill the room.

She keeps her eyes open when he leans down to kiss her this time, and it doesn't feel like a band-aid or glue or temporary when they fix things this time.

It feels wonderful.

* * *

_She kissed him in every language._

* * *

"Katherine!"

Kate's wrapped up in a hug before she's even through the door to Castle's loft, chuckling as Martha twirls her around, gripping her tightly.

She pulls away, cupping Kate's face in her palms. "Oh, you look absolutely radiant. But I bet solving top secret cases will fill your self-confidence, right, kiddo?"

Kate smiles fondly as Martha pulls her hands away. "It's so lovely to see you again, Martha."

Martha waves a hand as she walks away. "Let's avoid all those awful pleasantries please, darling. You want a glass of wine?"

"Uh, actually, I'll just have some water." Kate says, placing her suitcase beside the island in the kitchen. She'll put it away later.

Martha raises her eyebrows. Eyes twinkling. "Oh, really?"

Kate presses her lips together. Tries not to smile. She really has missed Martha. "Yeah."

Kate watches Martha as she wanders around, watching the fantastic curls of her bright hair, the way she speaks with her hands through their conversation. A wonderful sense of home settles in her heart even though she hadn't realised she'd been drifting, chasing ghosts with her fingers on a dusty map. It makes her smile beyond belief, especially when she hears the click of the front door and hears Castle call her name.

Martha grins, heading towards the stairs. "I'll leave you two kids to it."

Kate slides from the stool and suddenly he's there, lifting her up by the waist and setting her on the counter, mouth descending on hers. She swallows his kisses like poems, dizzying her with their intensity, their admiration.

"Hi." She whispers when they pull apart. Barely.

"Hi." He says, nudging his nose against the soft skin of her cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't pick you up from the airport. Gina really does schedule meetings at inconvenient times just to spite me."

The corner of her mouth tilts up, her hand wraps around his shoulder, her voice content as she speaks. A warm rumble through her chest.

"It's okay, Castle." She steals another kiss from his lips, toes curling. "I'm home. Home for Christmas."

Their lips press against each other once again, smiling too widely to kiss properly, far too happy to care.

* * *

"You know we've been together for over three years now. Four next may."

She settles beside him in bed that night, smirking even as a light tinge of pink settles on her cheeks. "I know. I remember that Skype call very well."

He grins, a little lopsided, as she bites her lip. "Well, for two of those years, it's been like this. And that's- I thought I wouldn't be able to bear it. But. I can. And just having you here. For Christmas. It's enough."

Kate's eyes water slightly, and she hooks her legs over his lap, scooting over to rest her head on his shoulder. "Alexis will be okay with me being here this year, right?"

He looks down at where her hand toys with his top, rubs a thumb over her ring. Their ring. Nothing more has been said about getting married, but he doesn't need there to be. Sometimes he wonders about it. All this future they have left in front of them, vague and undetermined. But that doesn't scare him. Taking every day as it comes. It doesn't scare him.

And surprisingly, it doesn't seem to scare her.

"Things are better now. Last year… Visiting your Dad was a good idea." He tells her seriously. "But things will be okay this year. You'll see."

Kate nods, cheek rubbing against the fabric of his top. "I don't want to get between you and your daughter, Castle."

He smiles, cupping her cheek with his palm. "You never do, Kate. I know that she gets protective of me sometimes, but she knows that I love you and that you make me happy, and she'll never resent you for that. Okay?"

Kate sighs, leaning into his palm. Presses a small kiss against his wrist.

"Sometimes your family feel so distant to me, Castle."

"I-"

She presses a finger against his lips.

"Not your fault. It's not your fault." She assures him softly, hand dropping down to tug on the neck of his shirt. "It's just this situation."

Her head rests lightly against his shoulder, eyes on her own fingers, on their ring.

"We're going to be okay, aren't we?"

He can't believe he's seeking assurances from her. Kate Beckett, who's always ran at the first sign of trouble, who's always looking to him for a sense of direction in their relationship. He almost wants to take the words back, to not place that level of pressure on her, just in case she runs again.

But then she's answering him.

"We're gonna be okay, Castle." Her eyes lift to his. "Maybe this situation isn't perfect. Maybe other people don't understand why we do it, why it's worth it. And maybe sometimes we come close to giving up. But we'll always be okay."

He sits and stares at her in stunned silence.

There's her answer.

Kate smirks, pulling away slightly so that she can straddle him, settling back on his thighs. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he can see something twinkling in her eyes, like a star, faint and shy but there.

"I just wanna know one thing, Castle. For Christmas."

"It's not Christmas 'till tomorrow, Kate."

She pinches him, making him yelp. "Shut up."

"Okay, okay, your majesty." His hands settle on her waist. "What do you want to know?"

This, here, with her. When she leans forwards and presses a gentle kiss against his lips. Lingers by him, in their own personal bubble. This is why it's worth it. Every fight. Every frustration. Every time she struggles for her independence while he tries to climb inside it. This is why.

"When are we gonna get married?"

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**Twitter: **_closingdoors**  
Tumblr: **instanakaticsboobs


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